Seven Stages
by Cinerari
Summary: CWZ-verse; M/M warning; Come on, I'm not worth your tears. Smile for me, my pirate. (It was requested that I post this...)


**First I say I'm not gonna post AUs. Then I say I'm not going to post Harlock yaoi. Jeez. I'm sorry you guys, but it was requested so...**

** I made Harlock a huge baby in this. It's terrible, _but I didn't think anyone would ever read it but me._ How obvious is it that I'm kind of embarrassed about posting this one?**

**I don't think I've killed Zero enough, but funny enough, I haven't even posted a fourth of the fics he's died in. Zero sure does like becoming a ghost...**

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Harlock wasn't supposed to cry. Stupid kid, the one time he decides to just sit and cry, and it has to be over me. Why? We'd never been serious. It hadn't meant anything, at least not to him.

Sure I'd longed for more than just small flings in bed, but any hints I'd dropped had gone ignored. He didn't want me like that. So why was he crying? This didn't make sense.

I wanted to hit him and yell until he realized how stupid he was being. But I couldn't touch him. I couldn't speak to him. I could just stand there by his side and watch him as he sobbed brokenly.

I had died a few hours before only to find myself immediately standing in Harlock's Death Shadow, watching him laugh in blissful ignorance. My attempts to get anything across to him had been useless, even when the report was sent from Marina. Even when he knew. I couldn't tell him how he'd won. He'd beaten me. I couldn't apologize for never having a proper duel with him like I'd promised. I could only watch his joy drowned away by a heart-wrenching pain as he read the brief report.

_Harlock,_

_We lost Captain Zero on Paragon. Shot from behind. Died almost instantly._

_-First Officer, Marina Oki_

The "almost" was a bit of an insult. That bastard had shot me straight through the heart, and damn it had hurt. Sure I'd gone out a few seconds later, but I'd gotten him back first. I'd issued one last command too. I'd passed my rank down though the buzzing com-link in my ear as the screams of my comrades faded into nothing. Marina should have called herself the captain.

Don't tell him I'd died like that. That wasn't how it had ended. I'd fought. I'd fought with everything I had, but it just wasn't enough to get back to him.

I'd followed him back to his room, my footsteps not echoing on the metal floor like his. He'd kept his chin up, his expression even, but that vanished once his door had closed behind him. I longed to catch him as he sank to his knees. I wanted to cup his face and brush those tears away, but my touch held nothing.

I could only whisper pointlessly down to him how sorry I was, how he needed to stop crying. There was no reason to cry, not over me. Please smile again. Please, I need to see it.

Harlock, how was it that I seemed so much older than him when we were really only a few years apart? He was really such a child, crying as though he'd never felt true grief before. I couldn't understand it. He hadn't loved me, not like I had loved him. Why was he so upset? Why was I here? Why? Why?

He seemed to be a mirror of me from those years before as he lost himself in alcohol. I could only watch. I knew how that felt, and I knew that even if I could talk to him, telling him his actions were pointless wouldn't help. Everyone said that - "Drinking isn't going to help you." No. Maybe not. But it sure as hell feels like it.

Red bourbon had been my drink of choice. Red wine was his, and the more he drank, the sloppier he became. The liquid began to drip down his chin, looking fittingly like blood as he killed himself with it. It dribbled onto his uniform to mar the sharp blue, staining his skull and crossbones.

I didn't remember the stages of grief well, but he surely went through all of them. I'd seen that desperation and denial flash through his eyes as he reread Marina's report over and over, waiting to see the joke. I'd watched him pace wildly, his steps uneven from alcohol as he berated the walls. I could barely make out what he was saying sometimes, but it was usually about how no one should be allowed to die from being shot from behind. That wasn't fair.

When he calmed down again, he sank into soft words marred by tears. He asked why I had to die. Me of all people? Couldn't it have been someone else? There was nothing I could do but sit at his side against the wall and listen.

By the time he finally sobbed about how much he'd loved me, I wasn't surprised, just sad. I wished we could have been more. I wished I could have worked up the courage to tell him. But it was too late for that.

He begged for me to come back, and I whispered back that he would be alright. He didn't need me. He never had. I told him I loved him and how strong he was. I told him that the pain would ease, that he would find someone else. I told him not to push that person away, not for my sake, because all I wanted now was for him to be happy.

I followed him around for a few days, watched him bravely lead his men with a mask by day and sit alone in the dark by night. I watched him drink so much that I sometimes worried. It was a good thing he shared my iron liver.

On the fifth day, he received a package. I was amazed they'd managed to get it to him. I had such a wonderful crew.

I couldn't help but smile as he opened it, his eyes deadened by pain and grief. The last will and testament of Warrius Zero had surely been written by a madman. Harlock simply stared at my saber, ran his thumb up the length of the blade, and set it aside. The hat seemed to pain him. For a moment, he placed it atop his mess of gorgeous curls where it fell to cover his eyes. Then he set it behind himself as though he couldn't look at it.

But the jacket, which I had said to be given to him in any condition, left him trembling. The burnt hole still cut through where my heart had been, and he buried his face against it. After the first night, he hadn't cried again, but maybe he was breathing the scent of my blood, a gunshot, and of me. Maybe it was too much.

I watched him cry one final time before a pained smile captured his features. When he spoke, it was as though he knew I was there, though I was sure he didn't. He laughed at himself and apologized to me for being such a mess. I gave a soft sigh of relief at the sight of his smile, even if it was weakened by pain.

There, see? You'll be alright. Don't cry anymore, Harlock. You're always telling others to stop crying and move on. Listen to yourself for once.

I started feeling lighter, warmer.

"Goodbye, Zero. I hope you knew how much I loved you."

Maybe a hint of confusion and surprise flickered in his eyes as I wrapped my arms around him, feeling the slightest shift in the fabric of his clothes. Maybe he felt my presence in that moment. Maybe I was dreaming.

"I hope you know that I loved you so much more. Goodbye, Harlock. Stay strong for me, my pirate."

Then again, maybe I wasn't.

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**It's really weird because I wrote this quite a while back, and it's sort of comes from Memento Mori but parts of Memento Mori were also influenced by it ahhh I'm sorry! It's so cheesy! *Hides in corner***


End file.
